


Short Change Hero

by MissWritesAlot



Series: Short Change Hero [1]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Dom/sub, Dom/sub Undertones, Dub con elements, F/M, Female Reader, Major character death - Freeform, Minor Character Death, Negan is his own warning, Protective Negan, Reader Insert, Reference to Child Abuse, Reference to drug/alcohol abuse, Slow Burn, Zombies and shit, all kinds of kinky shit i will come back and tag later, also negan has a temper, and then his smug ass will win her over again, au as all fuck, but otherwise nondescript reader, death in general because uh, dom negan, it is definitely not love at first sight, jealous Negan, kink for days, like the reader is going to contemplate murdering him at least twice, reader is a sassy lassy, sarcasm is readers super power, shameless porn with actual plot, sub Reader, this is probably trash to be honest but fuck it, will take a bit to get to the porn, writing it anyway
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-11
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-03-27 06:20:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13874976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissWritesAlot/pseuds/MissWritesAlot
Summary: You are a tough Southern Belle with a potty mouth and a heart of gold. Negan is a tough man with a potty mouth who comes from God only knows where and it's debatable if he has a heart at all...No one could have predicted the fall out that happened after you and the others took out a few Savior outposts in order to try to loosen their strangle hold on the supply lines with other communities. In retribution, Negan comes a knockin' and set to mete out a form of punishment none of Alexandria will soon forget. And to top it off, he takes a small group of random individuals hostage. As long as conditions are met, one by one, Rick's little lost sheep are returned to their flock. But what happens when he encounters a hostage he finds he doesn't want to let go?....





	1. This is Gonna Hurt

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at writing a fanfic series thing. Don't be a dick about it, yo. Please keep in mind this is entirely AU and I'm quite literally writing this by the seat of my pants. Please remember that feedback and constructive criticism are things that give me life.
> 
> I genuinely hope you enjoy.

__

_"Listen up, Listen up_  
_There’s a Devil in the Church_  
_Got a bullet in the chamber_  
**AND THIS IS GONNA HURT** "  
-Sixx A.M.

 

_Take Rosita with you, Abraham said. It will be safer that way, he said.  
_

You were pretty sure you were going to pop the spicy, trigger happy Latina in the mouth before this shit day was all said and done. The logistics of getting off a right hook in the cramped cab, while driving no less, would be tricky.  


You were getting more and more willing to give it a shot.  


“I told him this was pointless. I think he wanted to just get me out of - “  


“Look, Rosie. I just want to get this shit back home and sleep for a week. It’s been a hard run, okay?”  


Your typical honeyed Southern accent turned sharp, and your friend noticed. But it wasn’t Rosita being caught up on Abraham that really bugged you. It was her focus on that over a whole scavenger group going missing. A group you failed to find hide or hair of on your own quick, desperate run for supplies. “He moved on. ‘Nuff said. Go bang Spencer to take your mind off it. All you really can do,” You continued after a second, lighting up one of your few remaining cigarettes to ease your agitation. You’d been meaning to quit for some time but just hadn’t gotten around to it. 

“Me and Spencer are just friends,” Rosita said churlishly, taking a sip from her canteen and averting her gaze out the window. 

“Yeah, sure. You left his house at three a.m. with fuck knots in your hair because you’d been up all night playing scrabble.”  


“Piss off, Harley.”  


“Fuck knots don’t lie, babe.” You grinned at her, and after a moment she smiled back. 

A somewhat comfortable silence took over the cab then and you were able to just enjoy the uncommonly nice day. Trees were in bloom, birds were singing. The sun shone down on the winding, empty road and the scent of wildflowers and damp earth lulled you. It was almost enough to fool yourself into thinking that this was a time before the world went to shit. 

On cue, a walker staggered out from the treeline and shambled into the road, shattering the moment.  


In reflex, your boot stomped on the gas; the old clunker hauled ass at ninety. It was rare you allowed yourself a moment of fantasy, of pretending your reality was different. But when you did you intended on enjoying it fully.  


“What the fuck are you doing!?” Rosita screeched, grabbing at the chicken strap above her window. 

“A public service, Rosie. Look at this poor fuck. It doesn’t even have both arms!” You cackled with glee as the truck rushed forward and collided with the prone walker. A juicy splat made you glad your window wasn’t all the way down. Blood and guts and brains arced in an impressive display over the hood and windshield. Gotta enjoy the little things. You typically weren’t one for mindless violence, but you had to blow off some steam. Frustration had been mounting for weeks and you weren't immune to it, even with as hard as you tried to be. 

“You have serious mental issues, you know that, right?” Rosita said through heaving breaths, though she seemed to mostly have recovered from your impromptu pedal to the metal. 

“All the best people do.” 

She gave a shaky laugh at that. 

You turned on the wipers and the washer fluid kept the walker gunk from obstructing your vision as the truck gamely continued to chug along the winding backroads.Virginia had a beauty all it’s own, but sometimes you missed Texas so badly your heart hurt. Finally, Alexandria came into view. “Uh, where the actual fuck are the guards?” You scanned the scaffolding on either side of the main gate, finding both chairs conspicuously vacant. There were no signs of struggle that you could make out from this distance and the gate remained firmly shut. 

“Shit, who’s gonna let us in?” Rosita squinted up at the metal blocking your way, as if peering at it hard enough would make it magically slide open. 

“I have a feeling that’s the least of our problems, sugar,” You snuffed out the remainder of your cigarette and slowed your approach. 

Coming in quiet was practically impossible with as loud as the ginger’s truck was, but you managed a kind of creaky pull in and killed the engine after parking flush with the gate to try to get the truck out of view.  
Your pistol was unholstered in a flash and Rosita followed suit as you both jumped down from the jacked up vehicle. 

“Maybe we caught them during a shift change?” the latina offered, brown eyes gazing at the empty chair on the left flank of the gate where, according to the roster, Abraham should have been. 

“Shift change takes less than fifteen seconds. That cup of coffee is still steaming - something happened. Recently.” You said, leading a slow crouch forward. Utter silence rang inside the gates; none of the hustle and bustle. No laughing small children. No one standing at the gate lever. Or at least no one you could see. 

The gate groaned and lurched, the slow as molasses mechanism to open her up engaged by someone out of sight. Instead of relief, you felt alarm. Your gun shot up of its own accord, your trigger finger itchy and willing to pump lead. You held off though, on the rare chance that this was a misunderstanding. 

You really should have known better. 

The first thing you noticed about the man who stood at the gate was his unsettling smile. It looked _wrong_ somehow. You couldn’t put your finger on it but this man most definitely gave you the creeps. And then there was the dead squirrel on his face that some might have thought passed for a handlebar mustache. Abraham’s facial hair was much more impressive. 

“Well, hello ladies. We’ve been expectin’ ya for some time now. What’d ya do, stop to powder your noses?” He laughed a deep belly laugh at his own joke, before leaning to the side to take a look at the gore spattering the truck. “Damn, or maybe you decided to go out and kill some shit.” His grin got only wider at the display of carnage, dark eyes lighting up. He didn’t seem the least bit worried that you currently had a bead on his forehead. And that was because four beefy rifle toting men flanked him, two to each side. No way you could take all of them out before you were reduced to swiss cheese. 

You slowly lowered your gun and Rosita begrudgingly followed suit. 

“That’s right, easy does it. The name’s Simon. We just wanna have a friendly chat is all. No need for those guns or knives. Boss will be with you all right soon, he’s just doing a little exploring at the moment.”  


A few moments later, you and Rosita were stripped of your pistols and blades. Your favorite hunting knife found a new home attached to Simon’s belt but he kept your machete in hand. The man gave it a few twirls, testing the weight and sharpness. He let out a low whistle of appreciation before tossing it to one of his cronies. “Alright, ladies first. Let’s get this field trip moving. Boss won’t be distracted for too long.”  


Rosita fell into step with you as you were flanked and lead passed the gate. The metal groaned once more and your only effective escape route was cut off. Not that you’d have made it far anyway. Your mind raced through all the possible scenarios, each getting worse than the last. 

The entire town was silent and empty. A few doors to the houses on the main block were ajar - one was even off its hinges entirely. Miraculously there were no bodies or signs of a firefight. This did little to ease your nerves, but it meant there was at least hope. The group made its way passed your house too on the main strip; your door was open as well, which pissed you off because it meant someone had been in your personal space. 

Even as the thought crossed your mind, a tall shadow crossed one of your windows.... 

Simon and his men lead the way into the further part of town, where the church sat. You mentally kicked yourself for not realizing that this was where everyone was sooner. The church was the only place even close to big enough to hold everyone. Sure enough, you entered, and the place was packed to the gills. The pews were lined with men, women, and children. All down the pews on either side was a man or a woman with a gun, ensuring that no one got any ideas. The podium featured a lineup as well; Rick, Maggie, Carl, Spencer, Glen, Tara, Abraham, Sasha, Daryl, and Michonne. 

Movement caught your eye to your left and a shocked breath escaped you. 

Eugene was beaten so badly you almost didn’t recognize him. The other men with him weren’t in much better shape - the only one that seemed remotely unharmed was the pretty brunette. You couldn’t remember her name. Eugene and his supply runners had been missing for about two weeks, and well...you knew what had happened to them now.... 

Simon approached the man you affectionately referred to as the mulleted wonder and Eugene cowered before him. They spoke low, too low for you to hear, but Simon pointed at you and Rosita and Eugene nodded. Your heart sank, because you had the keen feeling that you had just been screwed over by someone you had genuinely liked and trusted. Simon turned on his heel towards you, eerie grin still in place. “Oh, damn, and here I was hoping you two wouldn’t be on the chopping block tonight. Ah well. Get the ladies settled in, will ya, Brody?” 

A tall motherfucker with a buzz cut none too gently put you in place on the stage, on the other side of Rick. Rosita was shoved down between you and Maggie. Your already aching body protested at the angle in which you were forced to kneel, but the nine assault rifles pointed your way made you think twice about saying something snarky. 

The quiet that reigned over the little church was mind numbing. The only sound that punctured it was Eugene’s soft sobs. You sent a pitying glance his direction, and Simon caught it.  


“Oh, don’t worry darlin’. He looks a lot worse off than he actually is. He wasn’t in the cells for more than, what? Shit, he didn’t even last a full twenty-four did he, Brody?” Simon turned to consult the prick who’d so roughly sent you to your knees.  


Buzzcut shook his head, a glint of malicious glee in his eyes. 

“Yeah, I’m sure you were downright gentle,” You said in a bored tone. Rick’s elbow planted into your ribs in silent warning, and you glared at him, before turning back to Simon with a smile dripping with sweetness. 

He chuckled low in response, giving his mustache a stroke. “Damn, me and you’ll get along fine, sweetheart.”  


“I doubt it. I’m hard to get along with.”  


Static crackled at Simon’s belt, interrupting his response. 

“Simon, are all of our little duckies in a row? Please tell me they are because man, I have been **looking forward to this!”**

The voice was deep and utterly jovial. 

“Yes sir, the last stragglers just came in right on time. I was just getting ready to radio you." 

“Good.” You thought you heard the tinkle of ice cubes hitting a glass. “Anyone else approaches, kill ‘em.” 

“You got it, boss.” 

And like a punch in the gut, it hit you. 

Fuck, these assholes were Saviors! They had been something like a boogieman to you and yours for a little over two months now. Some douchenozzle named Negan (and what sort of name was Negan anyway?) was the sole reason finding other communities to trade with was nearly impossible. The Hilltop had been Alexandria’s only hope, but they had balked and balked hard. Didn’t help that their ‘fearless leader’ was a total - oh, and speak of the devil. Gregory was seated in the front row wearing one of those idiotic charcoal suits as usual, somehow managing to look equally smug and terrified. 

Fucker. 

You’d bet your left tit he had something to do with this. 

You were pretty sure you had just been about to implode from the tension in the air when the church doors burst open. And there, framed briefly by the streaming sunlight, was the man himself. You could dig the jacket. But what was with the red scarf? 

Unease flooded steadily through you as he approached, broad wolfish grin in place. His hazel eyes took in the scene. 

“Well hellloo, you sad, sorry motherfuckers!” His voice was even deeper in person, and it boomed across the church like thunder. 

It took you longer than it should have to realize he had a bat propped against his shoulder. And not just any bat, but a solid wooden one, good quality. And....wrapped in _barbed wire_. 

**Holy tits on a turtle.**

It took quite a bit for you be to intimidated, but this man was dangerously close to accomplishing that within the first thirty seconds of encountering him. 

“Shit, did my people cut out your tongues? I hope not, because somebody’s sure as fuck got some _‘splainin_ to do.” 

His playful tone and loose, casual posture threw you off big time. You suspected that might have been the reasoning behind it. He struck you as the type of man who enjoyed throwing people off balance. it was a smart strategy, you supposed. You did something similar with your honeyed, good ol' girl southern mannerisms. No one expected you to put a knife in their skull when you were out makin' apple pies and shit. You didn't enjoy violence, but you were good at it. But this man? Lord have mercy, he was a **master.**

Negan approached the stage in long legged, casual strides. He walked with all the swagger of a man who was in control and knew it. 

The leader of the Saviors stopped in the center of the line, looking up and down and then back again. His eyes lingered on the women, including you. He gave you a wink. 

Through your own strength of will or maybe the grace of God, you managed to keep from telling him where he could shove it. 

And then the business end of his bat was pointed directly at Rick’s face. 

To his credit, Rick hadn’t flinched...probably because the movement had been too quick to allow for a reaction. Big bastard was fast. 

“You must be Rick. Hi. I’m Negan,” he twirled the bat back up to his shoulder, giving it a loving kiss. “And this hot little number here is Lucile, and sorry fellas, but she is very much _taken._ " 

He’d named his murder stick. How cute. 

Negan tilted his head then, letting out a slow whistle as he sucked his tongue through his white, even teeth. Was it weird you’d noticed how nice his teeth were? Probably. But you were kinda freaking out at the moment, so you allowed yourself this little oddity. 

“Now, I know this is short notice. You have my apologies about that. But nothing lights a fire under my ass quite like my people, the people I promised to protect, waking up dead.” He shook his head, jaw muscle ticking. The savior bent down at the waist, making himself level with Rick’s stark blue gaze and invading his personal space all in one predatory movement. “ _Man_ , this just will not fucking work. And I will tell you why - I believe in the golden rule. You don’t fucketh with me and I won’t fucketh with you.” 

“We did what we had to, we were starving - “ 

Negan barked out a laugh, cutting Rick off with a sharp smack of Lucille against the solid wood of the podium floor. You could feel the vibrations from the hit - _talk about upper body strength._

“And that is where you are wrong, Rick. You had plenty of other choices. You could have approached me for help, for starters. Shit, didn’t Gregory tell you what a stand up guy I was when you went knockin’ on his door?” Again, he sucked his tongue through his teeth, looking the very picture of contrite. “Still, there’s the golden rule. And man, have you ever fuckethed with me, Rick. And now I must fucketh back, because I shut that shit down - no exceptions. After all this is said and done I fully expect to have a nice, civil talk on how to move forward. You’ll get what you need and I will get what I need. But first, you gotta pay for what you stole. And yeah, when you killed those men and women - in their fucking sleep no less, ya prick - you stole the most precious resource. People. And you’re going to pay the price with your people.” 

Rick stiffened, as did the rest of the room. Blue eyes blazing, your own fearless leader was no doubt about to go off like a bottle rocket when Negan cut him off. “Oh, relax. I’m not gonna kill all of them. Just one. Hear that? Just one person - one life for over two dozen. Seems more than fair, doesn’t it? But then I’m gonna need at least twelve able bodies to take back to replace the ones you assholes killed. That was some seriously fucked up shit, guys. Not cool.”  


A quiet kind of horror writhed in your gut, because for all this man’s charm and smiles, you could tell he was dead fuckin’ serious. 

“And here is the cool bit, Rick. Because I’m such a nice guy, I’ll even let you pick. That’s right - I’m going to count to ten and you’re going to tell me who will pay the price for your fuckup. But they have to be one of your own, on this stage right now. Oh, and it can’t be you. This whole point is to teach you a lesson, remember? Can’t very well learn anything if your brains are all over this ugly ass church, now can ya?” He let out a guttural laugh that was somewhere between a chuckle and a growl. The smug bastard swung his bat in a wide arc, indicating the whole of the church as he stood. “Either you choose, or I do. Only instead of one, Lucille will smash a skull for each fucking second you make me wait. Don’t make this harder on me than it already is, Rick.” 

The ex-cop, along with the whole damn church, fell silent at that. The tension mounted tenfold, to the point where you thought you might literally choke on it. Losing people had never sat well with Rick - so to force him to choose? 

That would be a special kind of hell for him. 

But that was the whole point, wasn’t it? 

Negan sucked his lower lip into his mouth, giving Lucille a twirl. “Better think fast Rick, because the countdown starts now.” 

For whatever reason, he glanced in your direction, throwing that wolfish grin your way. 

_“One.”_


	2. Nature of the Beast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A name is given and a life is taken, and there is definitely more going on underneath the surface...

__

_"And on such tender flesh I feast,_

_A dozen courses at least!_

_Of gentle lambs lead to slaughter,_

_Blood like wine, and tears like water_

_I am in need of no salvation nor priest_

_This my dear,_

_I fear -_

_Is just the nature of the beast."_

_\- Original Poem inspired by this chapter._

__

__

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

__

There was no discernable pattern in the series of events that echoed off of that countdown, or at least none you could recall with any great clarity later. Negan had pointed the murder-y part of Lucille directly in Rick's face again, smiling much like an errant child would who'd realized that his parents had forgotten to lock the liquor cabinet. You didn't trust it, and judging from the presence of the notorious stink-eye, Rick didn't either.

__

Not that either of you had a lot of choices at the moment.

__

The heat emanating off of Rick was palpable, years of frustration and horror and rage - you'd been wondering the last several months or so when this often stoic, mostly level-headed man would finally just snap. If you were reading the room right, you were about to find out. It was a punch in the gut when, instead of spewing profanities and directions on where exactly Negan could put his beloved death stick, Rick ground out one single word.

__

A name.

__

"Spencer."

__

For just one fleeting moment you felt your battered and exhausted body sag slightly in relief. As the newest member of the community you had almost been certain that your name would have left Rick's lips. Guilt quickly flooded in to take its place. Spencer was a downright weasel; selfish, conniving, and definitely not one you could turn your back on...but he didn't deserve to die. Not like this. 

__

No one did.

__

At least, no one you'd ever met. Maybe the asshole that fucked up so bad in a lab somewhere and started this shit show to begin with? You didn't actually know how the walkers came to be. No one seemed to really. But in the movies it was always a lab accident. Seemed about as reasonable as radioactive spiders or sentient and malevolent parasitic fauna.

__

Shit, you weren't a scientist.

__

"Well, Rick, wasn't that easy? I didn't even have to make it to three! Damn, this poor asshole must have really pissed you off, huh?" Negan squinted at the lineup of stunned, tense faces - and without erring, his dark gaze zeroed in on Spencer like a lion would size up a wounded gazelle. Without further ado, four armed Saviors stepped forward from the wall to make sure that Spencer's already limited escape route was cut off entirely.

__

Just how tight was the leash he had on his people? And how did he know exactly who Spencer was? There was more going on here, you could feel it. But the dawning realization of exactly what was about to happen made your mind spin, then jerk to a halt. 

__

All eyes were on the exchange unfolding; Spencer, as you as predicted immediately started pleading for his life and laying blame on Rick. He outdid his usual show of gusto though when Negan took a simple threatening step forward - and Spencer's bladder gave out. Sympathy welled up in you - you knew Rick and Spencer had definitely not gotten off on the right foot last year but this? This was too cruel.

__

You wanted to protest, you wanted to rail and rave and rake your nails down Negan's smug face. Sitting quietly while someone else suffered had never been and never would be your style. But something a lot like a snarkier version of common sense said all that would accomplish is getting yourself and potentially more innocents killed in the process. That eerily calm, rational part of you assured that Spencer was a liability and that his death in this manner would at least serve a purpose. Also, this would reveal something about the man serving the death blow. You personally doubted Negan was a man of his word. He had an oily car salesman vibe about him. His smile was too toothy and his charm permeated the air, too thick to be of genuine substance.

__

There was a very serious danger of you simply vomiting the meager meal you'd downed the night before all over the stage from sheer helplessness. You weren't sure if it was a relief or not when sudden movement burst into your peripheral.

__

A resounding crack of flesh on flesh rendered the church entirely silent - even Spencer stopped sobbing long enough to look up at a frothing Daryl. The solitary redneck had been nice enough to you but you couldn't say that you were friends or that you knew him well. His outburst - read: punching Negan square in his smug fucking face (just as you had dreamed of doing countless times since encountering him) - didn't surprise you though. He often reminded you of a dog your neighbor had once. It had been badly abused before Ronnie had rescued it, and though it had mostly recovered it had always had a certain look in it's eye. You had almost immediately recognized the same look in Daryl. But Daryl wasn't a pit bull off his leash. He had intelligence and cunning, and underestimating him was a mistake few people had lived to regret.

__

It took three men to pin the dark haired archer to the ground, only instead of allowing him to be in an upright position he was grappled with a knee planted firmly into the small of his back. Dust puffed up from the floor with his every breath, his mouth just inches from the wooden boards. Dark eyes blazed up at the bat wielding maniac, who met the hard gaze unflinchingly. If you didn't know any better you would say the bastard was more amused than anything, if slightly impressed. A large, calloused hand rubbed at the left side of his jaw, his grin back in action.

__

"Fuck, tiger, you sure got one hell of a right hook. Thank you for volunteering." He turned his gaze to Simon, "That livewire right there is the first one we load up when we finally roll out of this quaint little shit hole." The mustached douche nodded his understanding, and Negan turned to face Spender once again. The gradual fading of his smile was the only warning anyone had before -

__

Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack!

__

Spencer was dead after the first hit but it seemed Negan wanted to make a point. Bone splintered and blood gushed. Negan's upper body flexed impressively, his shoulders and arms moving with speed and precision that startled you. Not to mention the sheer power behind the unforgiving, rapid blows...

__

A retching sound came from beside you, and you saw Maggie struggling to keep bile down. You were suppressing your own bout of sickness, but you averted your gaze and slid your arms around your pregnant friend, hands running soothing circles over her back. Rosita was shaking with barely suppressed rage, tears spilling down her face. She flinched with every hit. You pressed your hand into hers, and she squeezed so hard you thought your fingers might snap. But you let her ride out the wave of emotions flickering across her wet, pretty features. It was all you could do.

__

Daryl thrashed and snarled, Carl's jaw muscles ticked. Glenn looked just as sickly as Maggie, his worried brown eyes never leaving his wife. Michonne's countenance was her usual stoic mask, but you noticed her hand clasped in Rick's. The ex-cop was stark, pale, and shaking, but he seemed to be holding it together. For now.

__

The crowd was all but trembling with barely contained horror. You could hear the wail of the occasional child; Negan looked over his shoulder when a particularly loud sob sounded out, and you thought you might have seen the faintest flicker of...something. You weren't sure how to describe that softening of his hard, green-gold gaze, however brief it was. By the time it left and his casual, cocky demeanor was back in place you were half sure it hadn't been there at all.

__

You found yourself suddenly faced with faded jeans. There was a worn spot in one knee, and quickly drying blood arced across the denim in dazzling patterns. Biting the inside of your cheek to keep your self control, you slowly craned your head up to meet his eyes.

__

His undivided attention was unsettling as fuck.

__

"Well, ain't you a peach! Makin' sure your friend here is alright. Glad to know at least one of you assholes has a sense of community and teamwork." He used the bloody, brain splattered bat to gesture back and forth between you and Maggie. Your arm was still loosely around her, but despite her distress and fear she did not cower from the madman's attention. "You two are coming with me, plus that hot little number right there." His eyes lingered on Rosita's hand - which was still firmly clasped in yours. Another odd look crossed his face, much like a shadow would creep across the wall of an empty bedroom - and then it was gone. You'd half expected him to make a lesbian lover joke. It seemed to fit his personality, and it could have even been on the tip of his tongue because he had stopped himself from saying something with a jovial glint in his eye.

__

Your glare told him he'd put you all through enough, and on some level, he seemed to agree.

__

Because he left you then, and dropped in front of Rick once more. The lawman met his gaze unflinchingly, blue eyes only once dropping to the blood soaked bat.

__

"You had your revenge. Now, please, go. We need to make arrangements and -"

__

"I will go when I'm damn good and ready and when I got all that I came for. Those three there are coming with me. Plus my new friend Eugene here, and the sucker with the right hook." He gestured to Tara, Carl, and Aaron with the business end of the gore spattered bat. Glen caught his attention then; Maggie's husband had scooted forward out of line, placing his hands up in a gesture of non threat and pleading. The pro scavenger didn't even glance at all the guns that pointed his way the very second he moved.

__

"Please, my wife is pregnant. She needs to stay here - take me instead." Glenn's eyes were on the pretty brunette, who was clutching her slightly rounded stomach and looking green about the gills. Living with the fall of the world was hard enough on her, but this too? You were really starting to worry about both Maggie and the baby. A woman could only take so much, let alone a pregnant one. But your friend was tougher than most. You just had to keep reminding yourself of that.

__

You held your breath as you waited to hear Negan's response. Maggie definitely wouldn't be able to do any hard manual labor soon; she was still fully capable but you didn't trust Negan would have the baby's best interest at heart. So imagine your surprise when he easily nodded.

__

"Fair enough. Got enough to worry about without a woman going into labor in the middle of her shift." His tone was utterly reasonable, though it had a nearly imperceptible edge. Like a knife that appears dull to the naked eye but is anything but. Hazel eyes still on Rick, Negan addressed Glen again, "But in exchange and to make up for the inconvenience of not having her to look at, I will work you twice as hard."

__

Glenn nodded eagerly, clearly not caring about his own wellbeing. "Yes, anything. Just let her stay." You could feel Maggie tensing, her lithe muscles contracting. She had never been the type to let someone else do her battles for her, but she still had the self control to keep herself calm. It stung her pride, you knew. Maggie was afraid, but she wasn't going to let it take away her dignity. It was something most of you had in common; save the late Spencer. Guilt still gnawed at you over your last thoughts of the man while he was still alive. In those panic filled moments of finality, you had not been the person you strove to be in a world where cruelty and violence ran rampant.

__

Negan turned to Glenn then, eyes darting in Maggie's direction before giving the Korean his full attention. "You know what, kiddo? I like your dedication. Tell you what - you will be my left hand man. Sorry, the right hand is taken," the bat wielder grinned in Simon's direction, who saluted in acknowledgement. "But so long as you do a good job, and I do mean a really good job - when the time comes, I will do my best to make sure your wife has what she and the baby needs."

__

Glenn nodded, his face wet and red with unshed tears. It killed him to beg, you knew. But there was very little he wouldn't do for Maggie. You had always thought their relationship was a rare and wonderful thing, something to give you a little bit of hope in all this....utter shit.

__

You cared for them both deeply; there was a determination in your to make sure Glenn got back to Maggie safely, after all this was over. God, you hoped it was over soon. The brutal death that Spencer suffered was absolutely unnecessary and a point blank example of how unmercifully brutal this asshole could be.

__

Rosita had finally lost a bit of her composure now all was said and done, and had resorted to sobbing in her hands as quietly as possible. She had cared for Spencer; he had been a shit heel and a liar, but...You gently nudged her, and she nudged back. A sign she was okay, but processing. Her hand tightened on yours in silent thanks.

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With a silent gesture, Negan summoned two of his men to take the body away. "Come on, make it quick. The kids don't need to see anymore of it than they already have. Poor little things are probably even more scarred for life now - nature of the beast and all that. Wonder who's fault that is, Rick?"

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Negan knelt on one knee before Alexandria's leader, close enough for you to smell the leather, the blood, and the faint tinge of bourbon. There was also a woodsy scent - pine, maybe? Sweat sheened over his brow, and a large hand scratched at his salt and pepper scruff.

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"We are gonna get our asses movin'. We will be back in a week for our tribute. Starting exactly one month from now, so long as the conditions are met, we will send a random person back to you. If someone tries to pull a rescue, if my half of the supplies is a pickle short, if one of your fine people starts shit in my house....well, you know the drill," he jerked his head toward the massive blood stain to his right.

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Standing, Negan then turned on his heel and strode out with a merry wave, which turned into a circular motion with his middle finger. "Roundup our new little lambs, and let's get our asses moving. I haven't screwed any of my wives in days."

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Wait, did he say wives? As in plural?

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You didn't have time to process that disturbing fact further before you were hauled to your feet. Your knees creaked in protest, your lower back positively screaming, but you managed to keep steady. A few faces you were not quite familiar with were added to your number. With impressive uniform precision, the group of captives was lead out of the church. Despite your fear and anger, you held your head high, determined to stay calm and keep hope for an uncertain future.

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It seemed, the worst was over.

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Again, you really should have known better...

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	3. The Hand That Feeds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the late update and shorter chapter guys. Will be back in full swing, soon! And for those of you concerned, yes, I will definitely be finishing this story! My new schedule is at least two updates a month, minimum! Hopefully more, but that is the bare minimum I will let myself get away with!

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_“Will you bite_

_The hand_

_That feeds you?_

_Or will you live_

_Down on your knees?”_

_-NIN_

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~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
Despite your best efforts, it appeared it was impossible to burst a man into flames with your mind. If Negan noticed your persistent, hate-filled stare he didn’t comment on it. There was a burst of activity outside the church, orders being thrown left and right with men and women hurrying to obey them. The trucks and prisoners were ready in record time. A small, begrudging part of you remained impressed at their efficiency. 

You, Rosita, Carl, and Eugene were bound tightly and loaded into the back of the truck that had Negan himself riding shotgun. You caught a glimpse of the driver but wished you hadn’t - one side of his face was so badly burned that you instinctively flinched. He noticed and judging by his glare, he didn’t appreciate your reaction. The blonde curled his lip at you and made your bonds even tighter for the unintentional insult. 

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The inside of the vehicle was completely empty save for some dirt and small bits of litter and glass. You were instructed to sit on the bare, hard metal floor. Rust spots caught on your skin. The smell in the truck was metallic, and you thought you caught hints of leather and bourbon. Must be the truck Negan rode in most of the time... 

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The truck was eerily quiet for long moments, the burned man and Negan taking care of some last minute things. From the yell that sounded out, you assumed there was some trouble. They were barely within earshot though, so you couldn’t be sure what was happening. 

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Rosita and Carl sat stiffly beside you. Eugene was still softly sobbing; he occasionally looked like he wanted to say something to you, but he bowed his head when you slowly shook yours. Nothing he had to say would ease the sense of betrayal you’d felt. At least, not anytime soon. It was too fresh; everything was too fresh. The knowledge he had been beaten and essentially tortured did soften you toward him. The end of the world had not made you heartless, as it had so many others. You would likely be able to forgive him in time, but it had still better be one hell of an apology. 

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The tension coiling in the air was palpable; leftovers from the gruesome scene in the church clinging to you and yours like stubborn seaweed. “Everything will be fine. We just have to stay calm and wait it out. Don’t do anything stupid, okay?” 

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Your gaze unerringly fell on Carl, who huffed with offense. 

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“I won’t do anything until I get a clean shot - “ 

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“No. You won’t do anything at all, unless it is a group plan. You saw what happened back there. This is one twisted fuck we’re dealing with. You can’t be sure that you’d be the only one suffering the consequences.” 

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“She’s right, kid. We got to work together, stay together. That’s the only way we will make it back in one piece.” Rosita leaned forward to pin Carl with a concerned, yet firm stare. Her voice was gentler than it normally was. She’d told you once that Carl reminded her of her little brother, Lupe, which explained her soft spot for him. 

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The teen nodded, tugging on the bandage covering his damaged eye - a nervous tic he’d developed. 

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The rattle of chain at the door brought the conversation to a halt. Sunlight blasted in, and Carl let out a hoarse yell. 

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Enid was covered in blood and looked dazed. Negan had a grip on her shoulder, his ever present grin even wider. The bat carelessly slung across his broad shoulder dripped with fresh blood. “Look what I found, guys! A little lost lamb away from her flock! Good thing I found her before some of the more unsavory characters did!” He chuckled low, giving Enid what he thought must have been a reassuring pat. “Damn, would you believe the old guy actually had the balls to take a shot at me when I was dealing with getting her to safety? Killed one of my men, too!” Negan used the bat to gesture over his shoulder. 

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One of the other prisoners he’d taken, an older gentleman who’s name you couldn’t remember, was sprawled on the ground several feet away. The top of his skull was caved in. “Luckily, this little lady volunteered to replace that poor bastard. Too bad about her scouting partner, though.” The leather clad asshole moved a large hand in front of his face, imitating a bullet exploding from someone’s head. 

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Well, that explained why the girl was covered in blood at least. 

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Negan gave the terrified teen a boost up into the truck, even going so far as to pat her shoulder. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. Mother hen here will take care of ya,” he winked at you, and then slammed the doors shut once more. The chain was back in place before Enid nestled between you and Carl. 

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“They killed Garrett, when we tried to come home. They said they had orders to shoot anyone else approaching the gate, but he stopped them from shooting me.” she sniffled, her face burrowing into her boyfriend’s shoulder. Guilt was evident on her face. Garrett had been Enid and Carl’s age, a friend of both of them. 

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You leaned into her, briefly, giving her an awkward side hug of greeting. It was difficult to be of much help with your hands tied. Your circulation would be nil by the time you reached your destination. 

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The driver and passenger doors screeched open and the truck rumbled to life. Your little group was in the lead vehicle, but while you were waiting for the gate to open, Negan craned his head back to look at the lot of you. 

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“So, I’m guessin’ this strapping fella here is Rick’s kid. Yep; same damn stink eye as his dad. Only half as good, because, you know - “ his voice filtered through the small square window at the front, his grinning features just visible. He had turned in his seat, to point to his eye. Carl shifted uncomfortably, no doubt magnifying the stink eye sent Negan’s way. 

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The teen had been shot just before you’d arrived - the first thing you’d been asked to do as a new member was to help scout for supplies to prevent infection. 

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You’d watched this poor boy struggle so hard in the last year to cope with everything, and on top of the horrid display before, you felt your reins on your notoriously sharp tongue slip a bit. 

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“You’ve killed one of his own in front of him and taken him away from the people he loves for an indeterminable amount of time - I think you can stand to let him get away without being mocked over _surviving getting shot in the fucking face._ ” 

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Negan’s eyebrows gradually rose with every word you couldn’t stop from tumbling from your lips. There was a moment of tense silence, and then he began to _laugh_. 

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“Well, **shit** , looks like we got another livewire here! What’s your name, darlin’?” 

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“Harley.” 

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“Damn, that’s a fine name, always been a rider myself.” He paused a moment, his head slightly tilting to the right as he considered something. “Since you are one fine looking lady, and this is your first day on the job, I’m going to let that slide. A one time only offer, just for you. Once we get to we’re we are going, you will see that shit won’t fly. You’ll learn to not bite the hand that feeds you. And if you’re not a quick learner? Well, I’m sure I can think of something that will straighten your pert little ass out...”

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End file.
